


Last Rites

by Fenchurch87



Series: Tales of Kirkwall (and Beyond) [17]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Canon Divergent Hawke Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hawke Family (Dragon Age) Feels, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21900802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenchurch87/pseuds/Fenchurch87
Summary: Marian Hawke's thoughts during Leandra's funeral. Originally written in response to a writing prompt on /r/dragonage.
Series: Tales of Kirkwall (and Beyond) [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1086066
Kudos: 3





	Last Rites

Marian Hawke had never been one for religious ceremonies, but she listened to the Grand Cleric as attentively as the most fervent believer. There was something reassuring in Elthina's words, she supposed, all that talk of being at peace and returning to the Maker's side. She kept her eyes fixed on the Cleric's face as she recited the verses. It was better that way. Focusing on Elthina meant she didn't have to look at the body on the pyre.

The funeral rites came to an end, and the Grand Cleric stepped back to allow the mourners to disperse. The nobles left first, a few pausing briefly to whisper prayers or offer condolences but most seeming desperate to return to the comfort of their homes. Hawke glared after them as they passed. These people hadn't wanted to know Leandra when she was just another refugee from Ferelden, but once she regained the estate, suddenly she was worth their time? She forced her rage down; her mother wouldn't want her to be angry with them. And at least they had come.

Her Uncle Magnus stood beside her, so much like her father in both looks and demeanour. Father. Another person she'd failed. She cycled through them all in her head. Father, killed by a bear. Bethany, killed by an ogre. Mother, killed by a blood mage. Carver. He should have been here, but instead he was far away, forced to spend the rest of his life as a Warden because she hadn't been able to keep him safe.

Magnus cleared his throat and met her gaze, a question in his green eyes. She nodded, and he placed a firm yet comforting hand on her shoulder before heading back down the path to the city. Her three cousins followed suit. Leif had nothing to say for once, his ever-present grin replaced with a grave expression. Ingrid too was silent, head bowed, all her usual swagger gone. Erik murmured “I'm sorry, Marian” and then continued trying to console a sobbing Merrill.

Varric, Aveline, Isabela, Fenris. One by one they left the scene, whispering words of sympathy as they walked past. Anders was the last to go, taking her hands in both his own and raising them to his lips before following the others.

She could avoid looking at the pyre no longer. She had tried to prepare herself for this moment, but it took every ounce of her self-control not to shudder when she saw Leandra's corpse. Despite the acolytes' best efforts to hide Quentin's butchery, she could see it all still. The line of stitches across her mother's neck, the empty, dead look in her eyes, the tattered wedding dress, everything was etched in her memory.

The Grand Cleric came forward again and held out the torch. She hesitated, locking eyes with Gamlen as she paused. By silent agreement, they lit the pyre together, their hands clasped on the torch, drawing strength from each other.

She watched through a fog of tears as Leandra Hawke departed the mortal world to join her husband and daughter at the Maker's side.


End file.
